


Intoxication

by sixnumbers



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Female Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, Lesbian Sex, POV Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixnumbers/pseuds/sixnumbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monet St. Croix meets the mysterious vampire known as Ororo Munroe. Although all signs point to danger, she falls in love with her and finds her situation much deeper and stranger than she expected.</p><p>(an Ororo/Monet urban fantasy-future AU? yeah.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a chance encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I usually start these with a fancast, but I actually don't have one for Monet St. Croix. She's a hard character to fancast for. My one for Ororo is actually N'Bushe Wright (though she was in Blade). I think she's gorgeous and gives off the right presence for my vampire!Ororo.
> 
> This AU is probably best dated at some point around 2100 to 2120, and Ororo's birthdate is somewhere around 1910. So she's a 'newer' vampire, but just getting aligned with her stronger powers with age.
> 
> Monet's birthdate is 2075, so she's about 26? She's a 'journalist' in the loosest sense, she mainly does freelance work and photography. 
> 
> I put some thought into this, though not enough to make a full, flush universe with lots of details. Try not to think it over too much...

Monet was nervous about going to this club. Not because it was a vampire club. No, that she was getting used to. Her friends say she's asking for trouble, but she was sure Visage was much nicer than The Pack House, the werewolf biker bar she lived close to. Dealing with police sirens in the middle of a Tuesday evening did not amuse her. The few times she went in, she was sure a few of them were snarling at her. They had pretty decent food for a hole-in-the-wall, however.

Visage, in comparison, had a sleek black exterior with bright, changing LED lights on the outside. The sign's script was neat, decadent cursive, softly glowing blue. If there was a way to fall in love with a building, she would have married this one.

There was no line, and under the black canopy sat a tall, wide man with skin like milk. Something about him seemed familiar, but she's unsure what made her think so. She felt somewhat underdressed, in her halter top, dark jeans, and black jacket, in comparison to the man's all-black suit.

“How are you this evening?”

“Fine”, she responded softly.

He smiled softly, nodding at her, probably smelling the newness on her. His expression didn't change, he simply opened the door and directed her with an arm. She took a deep breath, and steps into the club.

She got through the long red gangway to the main floor, and was pleasantly surprised by the environment. The vibe was surprisingly calm. They play mellow house music, and the room is warmly lit, with lots of red and gold she can quickly spot. It's also packed, full of people of all colors, smiling and chatting and laughing, blending together in a murmur over the music. Monet tried not to gawk, looking at the various faces of posh vampires. Though it felt like many of the crowd were wearing black, more were clad in red suits and dresses, some adorned in jade green and a surprising few in hot pink. Their faces all vary, from pointed noses to full lips. Some look at her with distain. _Maybe they think I'm here with a fetish_ , she thinks. Most smirk, investigating her from head to toe. It was arousing in a way she couldn't understand.

She finally made her way through the crowd to the bar in the center of the dance floor. No one was really dancing, save a few couples slowly winding against each other. The bartender is a sandy skinned woman with dark red lipstick, hair french braided tightly.

“Hi there!”, she shouted. “What can I get you?”

Monet panics for a second. They have normal booze, right?

“Whiskey and cola, pleasethankyou.”

The woman smiles. Her teeth are pointed, but not fully extended. “Absolutely.”

Monet felt watched again. Then again, it was a place where she would _definitely_ feel watched. She was just surveyed by the entire club. She was on guard and understandably so, at least in her head. But no, she's being watched. Monet looks around, hoping to catch an eye, and spots...another woman.

Her hair is white, eyes bright and boring into her as she sips a dark liquid in a martini glass. Her eyes get focused and sees the woman is wearing a dark red dress, legs crossed and kicking her foot to the beat. Her dark skin caught the light and seemed to glitter. Is this what people mean by entranced?

“Here you are”, the bartender said, bringing Monet out of her head. She quickly gave the woman her wrist to scan. “It's eight”, and Monet nods. “Start a tab for me?”

“Sure.” She turned, investigating her computer screen. “Under Monet?”

“Yes.” Monet raises the glass as if to toast. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” the woman responded with a smile.

Monet quickly turned to move through the crowd again, trying to get closer to the woman. She only got halfway to the cushy bench before she realized that her unearthly glow had moved elsewhere. She was only distracted for a few minutes. She didn't know that vampires could be so fast while not fighting.

“Looking for me?”

Monet turned, body tense. Her voice had a timbre of elegance, almost foreign accented. The woman was taller than she is, and...gorgeous. Intoxicatingly so. She smells like and cocoa butter, white hair box braided and pulled back. And she's slightly older then Monet, she knows that for sure. How much, however, is a mystery.

“Uhm...”

The woman sipped her drink again. Monet notices that it's not a real martini. It's thick and almost black in the light. Her chest feels tight, and the other woman caressed over Monet's shoulder. She shuddered, but relaxed slightly.

“So tense, child. Stay calm. I have no interest in hurting you.”

“Are you a vamp?” She blurted it out, and immediately regrets it.

“Some people would say so.” She chuckled. “You mean vampire?”

“Yeah”, Monet sighed. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. Come, let's talk for a while.”

The woman with white hair lead Monet back to her seat, still perfectly empty, and just enough for her to sit next to her. Monet felt too close, her thigh touching the other woman's and she could feel the heat of her skin, her pulse slow but present.

“What's your name?”

“Ororo Munroe”, she said with a smile. She sipped her martini again, eyes never moving away from Monet's.

“That's gorgeous.”

“Yes”, she quipped with a small chuckle. “You may call me Ori, however. If that's...easier for you.”

“I...”

“Just putting it out there.”

Monet nodded, making a mental note of it.

“What is your name?”

“Monet...St. Croix.”

“Monet? What a gorgeous name. Well,” she added, sighing, “just as lovely as the paintings from the artist himself.”

Ororo smiled, and Monet couldn't help but feel a little like she was prey. Ororo's fangs were just visible in the dim light, glinting. It was alluring, and Monet found herself staring as Ororo took another drink, blood marbling across them. Her heart raced, and she felt her face getting hot, and she was slowly getting turned on by this small interaction.

“What do you do, Ms. St. Croix?”

“I...I'm a writer. Journalist.”

“Oh?” Ororo's demeanor changed slightly. She was suspicious and Monet could feel it. “So...what brought you here?”

Monet shook her head, sighing. “I'm not here for a story. I just...came to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Humans don't simply waltz into a vampire bar without some preparation.”

“I did prepare. I read all I could about the place, and as much as I could find about vampires.”

“Have you ever dealt with any other supernatural beings, darling?”

Monet tripped over her thoughts at the pet name, but managed to nod anyway. “Yes, I have. I have a few friends who are witches. An ex-girlfriend who's a werewolf.”

“Ah”, Ororo said with a chuckle. “It's always an _ex_ who's a werewolf, isn't it?”

Monet smiled, feeling her muscles loosen. “I guess so.”

-

It's hours after they meet when Monet ends up in Ororo's loft, hastily taking off her jacket as she stumbled backward into the living room. It was a decadently decorated place, warm velvets and dark woods adorning every inch. The kitchen was dated, slightly, still having a large oven when most homes would be using the more compact heat beams. Monet looks around, breifly, before turning her focus back on Ororo, hand slightly over her mouth. Ororo watched her with curiosity.

“You look divine”, Ororo whispers, pulsing forward to trace her teeth over Monet's neck, hands rushing over her stomach. Monet hastily slipped her top off, letting her skin be fully exposed to Ororo's touch. Her hands feel hot on her skin, contrasting the slight chill of the loft itself.

She whimpered, lost in the affection, and wrapped her arms around Ororo, kissing her. She tasted like blood and dark red wine, the two mingling together in a way that makes Monet more aroused. Ororo kissed her collarbone, nipping it gently with her front teeth. It was teasing for more later, and Monet shivered, letting Ororo keep her close. The top got tossed aside on the couch, and Ororo lead her to another room. The warm richness is replaced with a modern chill, black painted metals and fabrics. Monet felt drunk as she stumbled into the room, still kissing Ororo and pawing desperately at the other woman's body. She only had two drinks. Did vampires do something else to make them sexy? Maybe it was just-

“You're thinking too loudly.”

“Wha-”

“I'm touching you, I can hear your thoughts.”

“How old are you?”

Ororo chuckled, but doesn't answer. Monet tried to shut up her mind, not expecting she was dealing with a vampire that had been around so long they could read minds. Ororo pushes her back toward the bed, and Monet falls, feeling more naked than she ever had with a partner. Hastily, she undid her jeans and pulled them down with her panties. Ororo looked on, smirking, as Monet unsnapped her bra and tossed it onto the floor. Monet smiled, seeing the pleasure flare behind darkening eyes.

Monet sat up on her forearms to watch while Ororo unzips her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Her skin is gorgeous, almost shimmering in the low light. She's wearing _nothing_ underneath the dress and Monet gasps, feeling like she'll come so hard she'll see stars just gazing at the woman. She wants to touch her all over.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Yes, darling”, Ororo purred, crawling over Monet's frame. She straddled her hips and nuzzles her nose against Monet's, and her eyes flicker shut. “You smell delightful.”

Monet doesn't comment on how good Ororo smelled, her warm musk blending with the richness of her sex.

“I...uh. I eat a lot of fruit.”

“Do you?” Ororo's teeth had shown up again, adding a terror to an already devious smile. “Then, tell me, do you taste like a ripe mango, or a sweet watermelon?”

“Grapes.” Monet wasn't good at this game.

Ororo quirked her eyebrows, and licks her neck. Monet shook, in both terror and pleasure. She had no idea why she was scared now, why she wanted to run. She was dreading the bite, dreading the mess, but felt so safe and trusted with Ororo. In a way she didn't understand, either.

“I won't bite you without permission. Don't be afraid of me. I'm very nice.”

“Yeah?”

Ororo slides a nimble hand down Monet's stomach, and strokes a finger across her slit while she looks at her curiously. Monet responds by laying back fully, letting her thighs spread a bit more.

“Very nice, if you let me.”

Ororo's fingers circle her clit, making Monet shake. The feeling is...unfathomable, and nearly unrecognizable from the other ways she's been touched before. And Ororo keeps watching her, absorbing her responses.

“More”, Monet says, shivering. “Why is it-”

“So good? Because I'm touching you. I can touch more of you, too...”

Ororo's other hand took hold of Monet's breast, and thumbs over her nipple. She moaned, brain hazy with feeling, and Ororo licked over her other nipple, teasing it with her teeth.

“Ori...”

“Use your words, Ms. St. Croix. What do you want?”

“Your fingers...”

“Inside of you, hm?”

Monet hitches up her hips, eager for it, and Ororo lays next to her, sliding her fingers in deep. They felt warm, perfect, and Monet was fully lost, drowning in feeling. When she starts to thrust, her fingertips drag across her g-spot, and Monet made noises she quickly lost track of. It all quickly built into a fever, turning Monet's thoughts into molasses, unable to think clearly. A thumb joined on Monet's clit, and the pleased hum from Ororo sends her tipping over the edge, taking to pressing her nails into her breasts. Monet's unsure how many orgasms she had, but they cycle together, Ororo not leaving her body be until she was shaking involuntarily from sensory overload.

Ororo pulled her hand away and lapped at her fingers. “I would say cherries”, she whispered.

 


	2. in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monet and Ororo had a post-coital chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooooooo i've got multiple chapters of works running right now. So stressful! I hope I can do both every two weeks. thanks for reading. <3

Monet woke up, tasting Ororo's scent in her mouth before she opened her eyes. Her taste was hard to pin down. It was dark, almost earthy, and she was fascinated by it. It had apparently stuck with her, too. She had gotten her bearings back after her orgasm to give Ororo her own, feeling the scratch marks in her scalp harder in the morning.

“Good morning, darling.” Ororo sat over the covers, crosslegged and calmly drinking out of a mug. Monet shook her head and took note of the other woman. Her baggy grey dress fell off her shoulders the slightest bit, but she made it look effortless and elegant anyway. The room smells heavily of coffee, and she finds a mug of it sitting on the other nightstand. “I hope you like coffee. Two teaspoons of sugar and cream seem alright?”

Monet smiled and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, that's fine...But, I thought vampires didn't like mornings.”

“I'm a little hardier than most”, she said with a smirk. “Light debilitates us, we don't process it the same way as humans. But we won't burn in it.” She takes another sip. “I hope you haven't been watching old movies for research. Those are always wrong.”

Monet shakes her head. “No. I read modern books, written by vampires. I guess most of them are a little more affected by it. One author-”

“Katheryn Pride?”

“Yeah, she—wait. How did you know?”

“I read plenty of what my sisters put out. I usually dislike it and find it boring. Especially that vampire erotica drivel. But Ms. Pride and I are on friendly terms.”

“But she's one of a couple popular ones.”

“And I know her maker very well. Both are very sensitive to light.” Ororo smiled again, taking a deep breath in. “Kitty's only about 60, she was turned around 25. Her maker has been around long enough to speak Old Norse fluently, but he is a very dear friend.”

Monet smiled, chuckling a little. “You never told me how old you are.”

“A hundred and twenty, give or take a few years.”

“You don't look a day over thirty”, Monet said quietly.

“A constant supply of blood does me a fair amount of good, outside of technical immortality. Vampires cannot survive without our little fix, and without it we wither away.” Ororo makes a dismissive gesture with her free hand, seeming to brush off death.

Monet had to check the time. It was almost 8am, which meant she had another three hours before she had to rush to work and finish her articles.

“I have to get going”, Monet murmured.

Ororo put down her mug and raised her eyebrows. “So soon?” She reached over for Monet's hand, holding it loosely.

“I have to get to work”, she said with a sigh, slipping out bed and Ororo's grasp while she looked for her clothes. She easily found her panties and pants by the bed, but knew she had to head back to the living room for her top and bra. Monet felt Ororo's gaze on her bare skin as she slipped back on her bottoms, zipped up her pants and went out into the hallway. Ororo didn't follow her out the bedroom door, which Monet was grateful about. The living room, that seemed so dark and dense in the night lights, almost glistened in the bright sun. She picked up her bra and shirt just as Ororo waltzed into the room, watching with curious interest.

“It's far more interesting to see people dress than undress”, she cooed.

Monet grinned, pulling down her top and tossing on her jacket.

“I'll make note of that.”

Ororo stepped close to Monet and pulled her gently into another kiss. She was warm, rich with the flavor of coffee and fading cinnamon toothpaste.

“Call me when you like. I keep a very free schedule”, Ororo whispered, stroking up Monet's arms as she gazed into her eyes. She could note where Ororo was reading her mind, and shivered again. It wasn't weird as much as it was turning her on again.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Monet moved away from her, and moved toward the door as Ororo followed, closing it slowly as Monet walked out. She doesn't know what to say or who to tell about anything. So Monet resolves to keep her secret rendezvous just that: a secret.

 


	3. a fateful phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monet can't get Ororo off her mind, so she does what any girl does: calls the object of their affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi to you~. Thanks for reading, I hope someone out there likes my pet project.
> 
> This wasn't beta'd, but I really wanted to get it out there. forgive me ;~;

Usually, work went by fine, or even quickly. Monet loved her job, was lucky to get a position at _Ink_ , doing something she loved. Since she was little, she was always writing or taking pictures, finding the beauty in everything in the world. Though her articles were often hard-boiled political commentary (Senator Wilson, Our Last Hope), she was lucky to score an interview with a popular figure here and there. The last time that happened, she sat down with reclusive author Bruce Banner. He was...surprisingly pleasant, though seemed to want to crawl into his shell for most of it. 

But today was different. Time dragged, and she was checking her computer clock every ten minutes. It was tough to focus on her next article about Victor Von Doom, a foreboding middle-aged alchemist who had taken an interest in politics. Maybe she made the wrong decision, going home with a vampire. She hadn't even been drunk from, but there was a thrumming in her chest that wouldn't let up. It was annoying, to say the least, but it reminded her of Ororo, listening to her name slip out of her lips. The warm, sweet embrace she was held in through the night.

She kept her door close for the day, though that meant she would probably miss out on most social interaction. She didn't desire it right now, anyway. It was good that most of her coworkers understood, and had adjusted to her asocial tendencies whenever they cropped up.

She took an early lunch at 1pm, knowing she'll be spending time in the office until 8, and called the number that Ororo had programmed into her phone while they were still at the bar. Her thumb nervously stroked over the 'dialing...' screen, almost itching to turn back. But before she could, someone answered.

“Munroe residence.”

 _Another woman's voice_. She hung up immediately. Had she been played? She felt hot all over, angry and disappointed and nervous. Ori-- Ororo, she corrected herself, was being so kind. _Call me_ , echoed in Monet's head. Was she expecting this? Of all the bullshit--

The phone rang. It was Ororo's number. Though she didn't want to, she decided to pick up. She took a deep breath, but was cut off by the same voice as soon as the woman on the other end noticed. The voice  _chuckled_.

“You're my mistress's lover from Visage, aren't you?”

Wait.

“Mistress?”

So it was a little dom-subby last night she was there, but she never called her 'mistress'. She didn't exactly play that way. Not that she was _opposed_ to other people doing so, but-

“I'm her assistant, Jean.”

“Her assistant.” Monet huffed. Then again, Ororo was a vampire. A wealthy one, from what she had gathered.

“Miss Munroe can't go out in direct sunlight for too long. She also dislikes androids for long tasks. I am a perfect medium.”

"So, what does that make you?"

“I'm a simple woman. I have no powers. Much like you, I suspect.”

Though her family was full of alchemists and mages, Monet's immediate family were all not gifted. It was a joy, honestly, as she had far less responsibilities as a child. No fetching ingredients, worrying about full moons, or avoiding the sun.

“You're right...but I called for Ororo. Is she available?”

“No, not currently. She's taking a bath.”

Monet unsettled slightly.

“...are you with her?”

Jean laughed. She had a light, airy laugh, one that could easily be confused as fake. Monet supposed she was a professional assistant, laughing a laugh that had been honed perfectly for such occasions.

“I can see where you would think so. No, I'm not with her. I am an assistant. Not an _assistant_ ,” she said back, adding a sharp twinge to her voice on her second reiteration.

Monet pursed her lips. Jean was likely thought as more than professional before, from the way she emphasized a separation. “Well, Jean. Will you tell her I called?”

“Of course, Miss St. Croix.”

“Okay...hm.” Monet paused, thinking of how to end this well. “Thank you, Jean.”

“You're very welcome. Have a good afternoon, miss.”

And Jean hung up, very unceremoniously.

~

Ororo doesn't call her back, instead opting to send her a message. “ _Meet me at Penelope's at 9pm. I'll be wearing green. reservation name will be Munroe. - ori_ ”

 


	4. date night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monet meets Ororo for dinner. A real dinner.

That's all the message said, and that's all Monet needed to come crawling back. 

 _Vampires, contrary to popular belief, do not emit more pheremones or change anything with another person_ , the book _Bloodlust: A Vampire Sex Primer_ said. _Some vampires are touch telepaths, and can be deeply connected to people even just by a brief, but intentional, brush of skin._ It explained why that night was so intense. Ororo had brushed her bare hand briefly while they spoke at the nightclub. When they got to her place, everything got hazy. It was probably a reverb feedback of pleasure between them both. Sexy, but strange.

She knew that she had to look nice, step up her game after her casual look from Visage. She knew that Penelope's was ritzy, playing music older than her great-grandparents and serving 80 credit plates of fine food. It was intensely New York.

Nervously, she adjusted her black pencil dress, and made sure her shawl wasn't going to fall off her shoulders. She took a cab, hesitant to take her motorcycle and ruin everything.

“Good evening”, the hostess asked. She was a very high-end android, the sort of humanoid one expects with fine dining. Most of the places she frequented just had viewscreens and robot arms. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, under Munroe...” Monet's eyes darted across the room, and she thinks she spots a sparkle of gold and emerald at a table near the back.

The hostess smiled politely. “I can take you to her. She's been here for a few minutes.”

Monet followed the hostess politely and there Ororo was, sitting politely with a glass of water in hand.

The hostess gestured to Ororo before walking away.

“Monet, my dear.”

Ororo stood and slipped her arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. She was warm, perfect, and she wanted to melt into her.

“Ori...I'm glad you texted me.”

Ororo hummed happily. “Wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression of me.” She tilted her face toward Monet's ear, stroking across her shoulder with her other hand. “I wouldn't have invited you home if I didn't want to see you again.”

Monet smiles into her shoulder, and they let go, still holding hands.

“Sit,”, she says motioning to the other chair. “We have wine and all night to talk and eat and drink.”

“I don't have all night,” Monet says with a laugh. “But we can do all the rest.”

Ororo hummed in understanding, taking the wine bottle to pour a glass for Monet. “I heard that you spoke to Jean.”

“Yes. I—wasn't really sure what to feel about that.”

“Jean and I are strictly professional,” she stated, setting down the bottle. “Well, we are now, that is.”

“Now?"

“We had a fling in the past. It didn't work out, but we are very close friends. I want to be honest with you.”

“Why?”

Ororo looked confused. “Why what? If you mean why we broke up, I--”

“No. I mean, why would you bother telling me the truth?”

Ororo circled the rim of her wine glass with her finger and looked at Monet intensely.

“When have I lied to you?”

“You haven't--”

“Ah. Exactly. And why would I start now?” She took an deep drink from her wine glass. “Monet, my dear. Do not think I am interested nor aroused by bringing strange women home with me and lying to them.”

“So you do this often.”

She laughed, as Monet took her first sips of wine. It was dark and rich, perfect to pair with a hearty meal.

“If once in a year or two counts as 'often'. I guess it seems daily to someone who's lived as long as I.” Ororo shook her head. “I am truthful to my own detriment, sometimes. Vampires—well, stigma follows us. I find blood amongst consenting parties, or I go to nightclubs like Visage and get my fill. With a little extra,” she grinned.

“Are you going to drink _me_?”

“If you are willing, yes. The way your heart beats drives me insane, but I hold back. I do have self-control.”

“Are you different? When you feed, that is.”

Ororo smirked. “Slightly, I guess. I'm no monster, if that's what you mean.”

The two women were silent for a moment. The chatter of the restaurant seemed loud in response.

“So, what do you want out of me?”

“It depends. What do you want from _me_? Immortality? It's not as glamorous as you think, if that's your desire. Companionship? Absolutely. Love? Well, we'll simply have to see.”

Monet sighed. 'Love' was the last thing she expected from a vampire. She looked over her menu pad nervously, pouring over the dishes offered.

“I'll let you consider what I've said. Take your time with it, darling.”

“I need a lot of it.”

Monet smirked and put in her order. Luckily, Ororo didn't comment on her silence.


	5. speaking plainly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monet and Jubilee have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHH I'M SO SORRY. I hope y'all like this chapter. it's kind of expository but I sort of wanted it to be. I'm aiming to make this 10 chapters.

It ended up being a long night. Monet lost track of time, and time for Ororo meant little. She drank a little too much wine and she can remember bits of things. Dancing with Ororo at her apartment. An earthy kiss. Waking up in bed, alone, fully dressed besides her shoes. Rushing out in a haste without saying goodbye.

Monet couldn't organize her thoughts about Ororo the next day. On one hand, she was upset with herself. She got a little tipsy and she wasn't amazingly sure what she said to her. On the other, Ororo did look after her, and obviously was kind enough to let her sleep there. She was falling in love with her, but she hated it. Hated the vulnerability that she felt. She was scatterbrained once she got to work, and got stressed out even editing her paragraphs.

Being with Ororo, even for a short time, would be all Monet wanted. She was otherwordly, gorgeous and well—everything. Her laugh was a melody and her smile was infectious. Her smooth skin and soft lips and the way she said Monet's name had her in tangles.

Monet startled at the knock at the glass door, and pressed the entry without looking away from her screen. Whoever it was, it wasn't the best idea to show she wasn't working.

“What's pissing you off? Or maybe, who, I should say.”

Jubilee had her arms crossed over her chest, smirking just a little. They had become fast friends, both spending late nights at the office, and had become comfortable enough with each other to get coffee and confide in each other about their love lives. Jubilee kept strange hours, and thus didn't date much. She was a transplant to the area, unlike Monet, and hadn't made much headway in regards to a social life.

Monet shook her head, wanting to laugh. “It's—hard to say, honestly.”

Instead of walking away, Jubilee simply took as seat on the well-loved couch in the center of Monet's office. It was still polished enough to stay put, but would have been chucked if it was in the main lobby.

“Boy trouble?”

“No.”

Jubilee crossed her legs and kicked one foot casually.

“Girl trouble.”

Monet wiped a hand across the back of her neck. “Kind of.”

Jubilee raised her eyebrows. “Kind of? She's _kind of_ a girl?”

“She's more something else.”

“O— _oh_. You're not back with your ex, are you?”

“No, I am not back with Karima.”

“So who's the new supernatural beauty?”

“Her name's Ororo.”

“That sounds familiar. I'm not sure how or why, but it does.”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” Monet huffed, motioning away all of her tasks from her viewscreen. “I don't know what I'm doing with her.”

Jubilee uncrossed her legs and sat forward. “What's that supposed to mean?”, she chuckled.

“I mean she's a vampire and she scares me in that sense. But she's also...”

She shook her head. Jubilee still looked confused, but was willing to wait until the right words came.

“She's really great. Lovely. Gorgeous. I turn into putty when I'm around her...”

“Pheromones?”

“No, just my attraction to her. It's really powerful. I'm not sure if it's her feelings blending with mine but it's better than anything.”

Jubilee leaned back on the couch again. “Then what's the problem?”

“I'm just—scared. Worried that my feeling is wrong.”

“It's not, I'm sure. It's not like she's hurting you, is she?”

“No.”

“She's nice, kind, caring?”

“Very. Almost to her detriment.”

“Then...I'm not seeing the problem.”

“She's a vampire. I don't—there's been so many more before me. I'm worried once I commit, I won't live up. Or maybe she'll get bored of me and I'll end up being her assistant. Like Jean.”

“Jean?”

Monet shook her head. “Long story, sorry.”

Jubilee huffed, shaking her head. “Look, ninety-nine percent of you is screaming out that you want to be with her. But one tiny percent is preventing you from diving into the pool. For what reason? You'll never live up to being her number one of all time? Does that matter so much to you?”

“No, but I—“

“Don't,” she added hastily. “She's making you her number one right now. Isn't that what matters?”

Monet sighed heavily. She had a point. “Yes. It does.”

Monet put her face in her hands. Nothing was holding her back from this. Siblings and parents weren't to be considered when they didn't speak to each other anymore. But that didn't matter. It wasn't like getting involved with a werewolf. That was a full-time issue, but didn't crop up as frequently as one expected. But getting close to a vampire, as the books had implied, was a different venture entirely.

~

A black, stylish car waited in front of the office, and a woman was waiting there with a sign that simply said “MS. ST. CROIX”. She had long, red hair and milky skin, offset by the sharp black suit she was wearing. Monet walked hesitantly toward the car, only guessing that Ororo had sent a car to pick her up.

“Ms. St. Croix”, the woman said, obviously pleased.

“Uhm. You can call me Monet. Please. Being addressed as 'miss' reminds me of my private school. Who are you?”

“You don't remember our conversation over the phone, Monet?”

“You're—“

“Yes.” She extended her hand to shake. “Jean Grey. Ororo wanted me to pick you up. I wasn't sure what time you were done, and neither was she, so I've been spending a few hours at the cafe down the block.”

“Oh...I apologize. I didn't know.”

“You left in a rush today, didn't even get a chance to meet you in person and make some breakfast for you.”

“You're her chef, too?”

“For the occasional guest, yes. Ororo cooks for herself otherwise. She's very particular about her food.”

“Of course. So are we going to her apartment?

“No. She has other plans.” Jean stood straight and walked towards the driver side door. “Feel free to sit up front or in the back. Either way, I'm chauffeuring you.”

 


End file.
